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“Neither do I wish your father ill,” he continues. “But you traveled a long way for naught. I will not encourage the Highland lords to stand down.”

I don’t flinch at his correct assessment of the situation.

“Do some believe King Galfrid’s actions cannot stand?” he asks. “Aye. Do I wish to involve myself in the capital’s politics? Nay. Never again. I’ve no interest in the king’s troubles. No one thinks much of his nephew, but it matters naught to me whom he chooses as heir.”

Stubborn old goat. Elric Hinton would be a nightmare for Meria, and for us too, yet the church is committed to seeing him installed as the heir. They’ve gone so far as to say it is God’s will.

“The capital’s politics are yours,” I start out, but Moray shakes his head.

“Spoken like your father.”

That is where he is wrong.

“I don’t blame you for not sending men to fight in a battle of King Malcom’s making. But surely you can see what King Galfrid’s troubles would bring to our shores? Many of our people claim ’tis time to strike Meria. But if the church is successful in installing a man such as Hinton to the throne, ’twill cause problems for all of us. And do you not fear Father Silvester’s increased influence?”

As the Prima and leader of the church, Father Silvester has more than once used his Shadow Warriors to exert influence he should not have. Left unchecked, the man would surely wreak havoc well beyond Meria’s borders.

“Malcom embraced the man,” Moray says of Silvester.

“The queen does not,” I insist. “She has no love for a man who cares more for his own power and influence than for the people who so dutifully follow him.”

“What does the queen want?” Moray asks.

A fair question.

“Peace,” I say, unequivocally.

Moray snorts. “We’ve never had peace on the Isle and never will.”

I can’t help but smile. “For a man so at odds with my father, you sound remarkably like him.”

Moray doesn’t budge.

“I will not become involved. The Council can make decisions for itself.”

He drinks, so I do as well. Having expected this response, I try another angle.

“If Whitley keeps stirring up trouble along the border, she will be pressed into a war that will not serve Edingham . . . unless she has enough support to prevent it.”

“She should not have allowed him back.”

Him being Cettina’s brother-in-law. And while I agree, I cannot say as much. Lord Whitley has been making trouble for years, his every action guided by his thirst for power. The two were sent away after Cettina’s sister, Lady Hilla, had an affair. Or possibly had the affair. She never admitted to it, and the king beheaded the man who was supposedly involved. I personally think King Malcom had grown quite mad. Near the end of his life, he railed more and more often against his enemies, real and imagined, losing even his most loyal supporters, like my father.

He damaged the kingdom, and now it is up to Cettina, with the Curia’s help, to repair it.

“Lady Hilla is the queen’s sister.” I take another sip, biding my time. I need him comfortable for my proposal to be considered. “She could not bring her back without reinstating her husband too. Lord Whitley is the price she pays for supporting her sister.”

“A pity.” Moray makes another sound low in his throat before drinking deeply from his goblet. “But as I said, I cannot help you.”

Ah, but he could. If Moray ordered the others to cease their instigations of war, they would listen. At least for a time. And if Cettina is able to avoid another war, perhaps Edingham could unite long enough to repel any designs Father Silvester has on increasing his power here as he is doing in Meria. Many of the Eldermen who serve him agree privately that the church’s current corruption stems from one person alone: the man in charge. When the Prima is gone—and the man seems older than my father and Moray together—there may be a real chance for lasting peace.

“I met with the king’s commander in Murwood End,” I tell him, laying most of my cards on the table for Moray to see.

“And did the Voyagers pledge to join you if a battle becomes inevitable?”

In fact, they did not. The fierce ship captains of Murwood End are steadfast in their neutrality. More’s the pity. Except I find that I wish for peace more than I do for victory.

“We hope it does not come to that.”